


New Directive

by AllTheWayMae



Series: Convergence [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Yoda Acquisition, Adorable Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV), Enemies to Friends, F/M, Introspection, Mandalorian is so serious, Mando POV, Mild Language, Shenanigans, Travel, a bit of action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheWayMae/pseuds/AllTheWayMae
Summary: The Mandalorian shows up for his bounty. A ...very strange bounty.  But one he'll deliver nonetheless - that's the rule.It's just a job. Until it isn't.Now everyone's bound for a journey they hadn't counted on.(Or the cousin to "An Unexpected Journey" that no one asked for.  Mando's POV.)It will help to read that, but...not necessary yet?
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Convergence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680496
Comments: 60
Kudos: 176





	1. Kemir (from Ch. 2 Walking Shoes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'An Unexpected Journey' is connected part of the Convergence series and can be found [ here](/works/21720037/chapters/51809803)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially on lockdown because it's 2020. Focusing is hard. The world is weird. Creativity is a fickle beast. And I'm tryingto get work done but not stress out, sneak out of the house, or pick arguments with my SO. lol. But really.
> 
> Anyway. I was browsing around my docs for "An Unexpected Journey." In the beginning of that story I thought maybe I would swap POVs a lot more. And other times I've written ideas in Mando's POV just to round out my thoughts or plans
> 
> Uh. So maybe they will be fun to share. I've combined and fleshed-out some things already. But I'm not really sure this will be cognizant as a stand-alone story down the road ... ...some things might just be short drabbles or blurbs.
> 
> All that to say... let's play.  
> And it will likely make more sense if you've read "An Unexpected Journey"

* * *

“...what is it?” The Mandalorian hears himself asking even though he shouldn't care about the green creature.Doesn't care. 

He isn’t paid to care. 

He’s paid to find.Acquire. Fight if necessary. _Bring back_. 

All very active.Not very thoughtful. 

So he isn’t sure why he’s cocking his head to study the large, dark eyes blinking up at him. Or why he’s reaching his finger towards the tiny little ... _thing_. Whatever it is. 

Which brings him back to the question...

Not that he’s going to get an answer.The woman is still standing behind him, but he hasn’t removed the gag her Nikto captor had already wrapped around her mouth. After shooting her a glance, he decides he’s not going to.He tells her that he likes a quiet bounty, and that is perfectly true. 

She glares at him for it. Which is fine.

If a target is a capable fighter, eight times out of ten they get dragged onto the Razor Crest unconscious.The ones who can’t fight... _they talk_. 

The Mandalorian prefers the fighting. 

It’s over quicker. 

They have a lot of desert to cover and he doesn’t relish the idea of hearing her whine the rest of the time.To ask him questions.To try talking him out of the job.To to bribe him - _even the poorest bounties swear they have a rich father, cousin,_ ** _someone_** _willing to pay him off_.Or to try to seduce him. 

He’s seen all of the tricks, and if someone else has already gone to the trouble of shutting her up ...well, he’ll just consider that a gift. 

So he leashes her hands up, places an electronic tracker on the baby _thing’s_ bassinet, and then they’re on the move. 

He doesn’t miss the way the woman’s gaze roves wildly over the havoc he and the IG Unit created outside. Her eyes go wide. Her breathing hitches for a moment. 

_Good_. Let it be a warning. 

A little fear keeps even the wiliest captives inline. 

There’s nothing welcoming or easy about the hot trek before them, but the woman keeps up ...more or less.She doesn’t match his pace, but then he’d never expected her to. She keeps moving; that’s the important part.She doesn’t fuss.Doesn’t dig her feet into the sand in protest. Just slogs along behind him. 

He’s grateful, if he’s honest.He could bully her at gunpoint if she decides to get petulant, but easier is better. 

When she devolves into a coughing fit and starts trying to claw her mouth free, he realizes too late that he shouldn’t be surprised.The gag is rudimentary at best - _little more than a rag and twine_. In the arid head, it’s likely gone dry. 

So he’s uncapping the flask at the back of his belt as he stomps back to her.He ignores the way she flinches back from him _\- no surprise there_ \- and unties the twine with full knowledge that this is inviting her to start complaining.Loudly, perhaps. 

It’s the lesser of two evils.If she gets faint out here or passes out from dehydration that means he’ll have to throw her over his shoulder and carry her. 

Which ...he could. 

He’s dealt with worse.

She sputters a little when he tilts the water to her lips but recovers in order to take full, greedy gulps while it lasts. 

“Thanks...” he finally hears her speak when he retracts the canteen. 

And ...he’s a bit dumbfounded that she doesn’t go on from there.Doesn’t take the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind or ask questions. She's too busy wiping excess water from her chin and eyeing the green baby now that the bassinet is closer to her again. 

This explains why she misses him dampening the dirty rag and wadding it back up. She doesn’t notice until it’s in her face again, at which point she clamps her mouth shut. Tries to turn away. 

_There_ it is. 

He catches the back of her head easily and squeezes her hair in warning.

“Easy or hard way?” 

She hasn’t made things hard, yet.He’s willing to give her the chance to keep it that way.To let her see that if she cooperates he’ll go easy. Tit for tat.If she’s smart, she’ll catch on. 

She hesitates. Sighs. 

Then relaxes her jaw and opens her mouth. 

Smart it is, then. 

In return, he allows them a few minutes of respite before they continue their march. 

He watches the tiny child smile and wave up at the girl, who does her best to give him something of a smile in return. He swivels his head around and makes small noises but otherwise seems fairly content. 

Which is just as well.

“Keep moving,” the Mandalorian nudges her ahead of him this time so he can keep an eye on how exhausted she might be. 

If she gets sluggish they might need to take a longer break.Maybe even camp out until it gets a little cooler...

He’s considering setting up camp when they’re cutting through a chasm that provides plenty of shade.It would be the smart place to rest, though he would like to cover as much ground as possible and the girl _is_ still holding up. The more time she has to think...she might start getting ideas. 

And then there’s this baby. 

It is remarkably docile. There haven’t been kids _this small_ in the covert for some time, but he knows children to be much louder than this.Rowdy.Prone to tantrums. This one seems happy to look around. At him.The girl.The tiny lizards zig-zagging over the sand. 

Yes, he’ll keep them moving lest the moods around him start to fracture.

In truth, it shouldn’t surprise him that they get attacked in the canyon.He’d walked them into a choke point, but that had seemed worth it for the recess from the sun.

Wrong. 

But at least there are only three attackers. That’s a number he can work with. 

“Fuck...” 

Though he can’t say he’s proud to find the Thrandoshan who _hadn’t_ been trying to rip his arm off slamming one of his bounties into the rock wall of the canyon.Then tossing her through the air and into the beaten sand. 

**Shit**.Now he is definitely going to be carrying her the rest of the way. 

Seething, he doesn’t hesitate to raise his Amban rifle and waste the beast. It disintegrates after a satisfying screech.She’s too far away to tell, but he can picture theshock on the woman’s face. 

Disrupter weapons tend to engender a particular reaction.  


The Mandalorian's HUD alerts him to one of the Thrandoshan’s rising from the ground in his peripheral, so he absolutely does not need the warning the woman tries to shout to him.

He shoots the humanoid in the face before it takes a step. 

And, necessary or not, he doesn’t forget to note the fact that she _did_ warn him. 

Contrary to expectation, the woman scrambles to her feet to check on the baby.He knows from (ahem, _repeated_ ) experience that she must be sore, and yet she seems heedless in the face of the child’s wellbeing.Which ...is curious.He cannot imagine that it is _hers_. Not in a biological sense, anyhow. Though he has seen some bizarre things in his travels, a human giving birth to this creature would be right up there. 

He joins her at the bassinet.Stands at her shoulder to check on the little being even though he feels sure he doesn’t need to. Given the way she’d fought for the baby, she would be having a much more emphatic reaction if it had been hurt. 

Indeed, the thing is sitting there pleased as can be. 

It is easily his most unique bounty. 

He looks between the child and the woman ...it’s _keeper_ , for lack of other explanation. However they’re connected, it is important enough to her that she’d thrown herself into danger. 

That will give him leverage if and when he needs it. 

But. She _had_ attempted to help him. 

So he tries to remove the gag.For good, this time... or for as long as she’ll keep her head on straight. 

She hits away his hand when he reaches for her, and then in the next second looks horrified with herself. The Mandalorian cocks his; he’s not impressed but he’s also largely unfazed. Knows she’s still high on adrenaline. Besides, he would react the same way if someone reached for his face - _has reacted far more explosively, in fact_. 

So he gives her a moment. Two. Then grabs for the gag again and peels it off. 

“Don’t think I don’t have another one of my own,” he adds so she doesn’t get too comfortable about it.“I still don’t want to hear whining.” 

Especially not now when he’s pissed. 

And bleeding. 

Heeding his words well, she merely nods her understanding and rubs at her chaffed cheeks.His hindbrain warns him that he will regret it, but he’s on a damn roll so he snatches her hands out of the air and unties those, too. 

“...thank you.” 

He doesn’t respond.He’s not going soft and she’s not a threat. He’s rewarding good behavior to ensure further cooperation. 

_‘Merlp_ ’ 

They both turn towards the kid who continues to coo and look from one adult to the other. 

“...what’s he want?” his lips are moving before he realizes he’s going to ask any question at all. 

He only listens to her explain that the child is nonverbal because he can’t _not_ hear her.He doesn’t want to know.Doesn’t care one way or the other what either of them are about. 

“The tether,” he ignores the questions she tries to ask in return and thrusts his hand out at her.“For the kid.”

She bites her lip and starts looking around at the surrounding sand. 

“...I must’ve dropped it...” 

Nice try. 

Except she clearly hasn’t thought-out the lie because that bassinet would be hovering somewhere else if the electronic chip had been dropped or flung aside in all the commotion. 

“I’d hate to have to search you”

But he’ll do it. 

And then he’ll have to tie her back up, too.If she takes back her goodwill, so does he. The look on her face suggests she understands this, and she digs the chip from her pocket to slap back into his hand without further protest. 

Back to square. 

So he shoves the canteen back at her again. Lets her have a few sips. 

“Thank you...” 

After they make camp for the night and settle around a small fire, the Mandalorian watches as the child rejects the food that he’s given to the pair.Nuts and grains are not to his liking, never mind that they’re a perfectly fine source of calories. They’ll all need the energy tomorrow.Though he supposes he doesn’t have to worry about the kid’s stamina - _he gets a free ride_. 

The woman thanks him, though.Attempts to excuse the child’s poor manners before doting on the little thing with a small, lingering smile. 

Which he’s still trying to figure out. 

Oh, he _understands_ just fine.In an evolutionary sense, if nothing else.Humans are biologically hardwired to react to babies.Small bodies, oversized heads, large eyes - _it’s instinctual_. 

He just can’t imagine a scenario where these two matched up in the first place. 

Not that it matters. 

He has more important things to attend to. 

Like his bleeding arm. 

He digs his cauterizing pen from one of his pouches and fires it up. Once it’s heated he gets to work closing the deep gash ripped into his arm.It has clotted up and broken open a few times throughout the evening, so it needs to be taken care of.Normally he would like to clean it out a little better, but he doesn’t want to waste the water in the middle of the kriffing desert. 

“Do you need help?” 

His gaze snaps up to pin the woman with a stare across the fire. 

“No”

“Are you sure; I can--”

“No!” he snaps with more heat.With enough authority to shut her up. 

Why in the wold would she even offer? Does she actually expect him to believe she wants to help? And does she think that he is stupid enough to put a potential weapon in her hand? 

Then again, if _she_ could manage to hurt _him_ with the small cauterizing pen then he would probably deserve what he got. 

Doesn’t matter. Point is: _he isn’t stupid_. You don’t just hand opportunities to others. Ever. 

As night descends and she tries to settle the baby to sleep, she wants to talk. 

_Maker_ , don’t they always at some point?She’s no different than the rest.She’ll want to chat.To try to let him know her. Endear herself to him.To prove to him that _she’s just human_ and doesn’t deserve this. When that fails, the whining will come. 

Which is why he has a muzzler. 

He’s never been afraid to use it. 

“...what kind of gun vaporizes people?” she takes his lack of speech as permission to fill the silence herself. 

He cocks his head at her for that. 

**“That’s** what you’re asking?” 

He had very much expected her to want to talk about herself. 

“Well,” her shrug is more of a squirm. Uncomfortable. “I would love to ask where you’re taking us, but I don’t think you’d say...” 

Hmm. Factual. 

Apparently she’s not stupid. 

Or it’s a ploy.

“It’s a specially made disrupter rifle,” he answers anyway. 

Maybe the answer will scare her. 

“...I’ve never seen one before.” 

He can’t help that he smirks at this. After all, the weapon had not come to him at a simple price. 

“I would imagine not. They aren’t exactly legal.” 

She looks more amused with that than she does upset as she shifts around to get comfortable where she’s sitting. 

“I guess I can see why ... ...it doesn’t really leave room for error, right?”

_Ah_.Flattery. He sees, now.Been there done that.

“No. It doesn’t.” 

He doesn’t plan to use it on her, of course - _he needs to return her_ \- but there’s a latent threat in the words she ought to pick up on. 

“... ...was that droid back there your friend?” 

“Droids aren’t my friends,” his answer comes faster than he’s proud of. 

“Temporary compatriot?” 

Yes. _Yes_ , there is no question.He’s definitely going to have to use that muzzler. 

“...barely.” 

Because, yeah. Okay.Fine. The IG Unit had come in handy. - f _or mere minutes_.

“I don’t like armed droids either,” she nods along, untroubled. “My dad was killed in the Clone Wars...”

A bid for common ground. 

She’s good.Much more subtle than other bounties, he’ll give her that. Calm, not visibly panicking. Not outright begging him for anything. 

“... ...how much further do we have to travel?” 

But she _does_ want answers. 

“You’d have to be much more specific.”

He won’t tell her where their going.He doesn’t know much about the Client but he knows enough to suspect she might finally panic if he tells her who she’s bound for. 

“...how much further are we walking?” 

Hmm.That’s not so bad. 

“Not far,” that’s also not a good answer. He’s well aware. 

She looks away.Then down at the kid in her lap.Fidgets and fusses with the baby’s brown robe.She is nervous about his answer, if not altogether surprised. 

“... ...those Thrandoshan weren’t random, were they?” 

Yes.Not stupid. 

“No”

“Yeah,” she heaves a sigh and gnaws on her lip in an agitated way. A clear tell. “Well.Your turn.”

His? Uh-uh.He’s not playing in. 

“I don’t ask questions”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how this goes. 
> 
> Keep well. Drink water. Listen to a good podcast. Be nice to each other. And stay safe
> 
> https://its-alltheway.tumblr.com/


	2. Nu draar (from Ch 3. Sharing is not caring)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is his crankiness speaking to me? 
> 
> I wasn't going to post another chapter yet, but here we are. I'm glad some of you are in for whatever ride this POV has to offer. Let's escape weirdness together for a while:

* * *

“C’mon...”

The Mandalorian perceives _...something._ Something slithering in through his ears.

The sound is soft. 

It’s far away. 

His breath stutters in his chest and his eyes flutter open. 

He’s _...somewhere._

A shadow moves in front of his visor and --

_*Tink*Tink_ *

Something’s tapping it. 

Some _one_? 

Who could...

“...fine,” a face hovers over his. 

It’s hazy because it’s backlit, but his mind sparks back online to recognize he’s not alone. 

_Kriff_. 

His helmet shifts. Just barely. But it’s more than enough.

He jerks into movement. 

“Holy stars!” the woman’s eyes snap wide when he lurches up and catches her arm in a fierce grip. “You’re awake!” 

The Mandalorian glares at her, though he knows she can’t see it.He's sure that she will divine it from the wild tension thrumming through his body. She should know better. Doesn’t she _know_ what he is? She has so far acted as though she’s aware.

She had been taking advantage.Of course.

_Utterly classic_ behavior. 

“Disappointed?” he hisses. Cranks on her wrist a bit for the impudence. 

“What?” she tries tugging her arm away and fails which, finally, is a relief.Something he’s back in control of. “No!”

He scoffs. 

Can’t believe that. _Will never_ believe that. 

“Oh come off it!I was trying to help!” 

Her face is screwed up in pain, now.She’s using her free hand to pry at his grip. It’s another floundering attempt, so she is of little concern. The Mandalorian looks away from her and follows the wide tracks cutting through the sand near them. The horizon is empty.

The sand crawler gone. 

His parts. His way off this dry, Maker-forsaken planet. Gone.

_Kriff_. 

A light blow to his leg makes him jerk. _She’d kicked him_. It’s plain she hasn’t gotten his message at all, and --

Well. He _is_ close to crushing her wrist. 

He tosses the limb away from him. 

“What do you think?” she mugs at him again so very bravely once she is no longer in his grip.“That I want to be stranded out here alone?That I wanted to just...run around with your helmet?” 

Sardonic or no, the visual boils his blood. Reminds him how much is gone wrong in this moment.

“Don’t ever touch me,” he thrusts a finger closer to her face. 

“Yeah.I got that.” 

_Good_. 

The Mandalorian shoves himself up to his feet and pats himself down to check all of his things are in place.He has already mentally assessed his body, and he will be ( _very)_ sore, but he’s fine. Relatively speaking. 

Always relatively speaking. 

“Stop that,” he glares at the way the woman is inspecting her arm like it’s in a delicate state, for he knows just how much pressure he’d exerted.Knows the sound of bones cracking. “It’s not broken.Let’s go.” 

She is still flopped in the dirt, and he drops a hand down to her out of pure, instinctual manners. The way she narrows her eyes and ignores the silent offer almost twists his lips into a smirk. 

_Almost_. 

“...you’re an idiot.” 

He cuts her a sharp look.Wonders if maybe he _should_ snap her wrist.Although maybe she would start with the whining, then... 

She doesn’t speak further.Just surveys the messy wake that the sand crawler has left. And... _right_. It wasn’t his most successful endeavor. Not that he needs her commentary.

“Start walking.” 

Returning to the scene of the Jawa’s crime does nothing to upgrade his mood. The Razor Crest is a mere shell of what he needs.

The nature of his work necessitates that he is prepared for a myriad of emergences.Attack? He’s ready. Injury? He’ll tough it out. Regular mechanical glitches?That’s nothing. He has repaired the old girl more times than he can count, but this ...this is madness. More than a leaky fuel line.More than a sputtering engine or broken landing gear. 

His options are scant. 

More precisely?One. 

He has one option. 

“Come on,” he gestures to the girl who’s waiting near the bottom of the ship’s ramp. 

She’s been quiet and kept her distance during his seething inspection, so at least that’s something. She can read a room.

“Where are we going?” 

“That way”

Having been a captive, he doubts very much she can identify one direction from another here. That works to his benefit.

“...is there a village?” 

Deep breath in. Back out. 

“Get the kid.” 

“Yeah boss...” 

He grits his teeth.Let’s her round up the baby.Pretends he can’t here her fussing and quipping with the tiny monster. 

“Don’t”

“What?” she blinks owlish eyes at him. 

He doesn’t buy the sell. 

“Just _don_ ’t with me right now”

When she doesn’t babble on or push his buttons further, he extends a canteen to her.Gestures at the bassinet so she will deposit the kid in it. Then they’re off. 

He recalls the way to the Ugnaught’s farm. It had been a long trek but not a grueling one, so they should make descent time.After dark based on his estimation of the light cycles here, but that’s no matter. He knows the farmer doesn’t set up any particular night security. The blurrgs dissuade trespassers, the Ugnaught had said. 

Fair enough. 

But he will be able to spot the posts of the fence through his HUD.They’ll won’t have trouble

Admittedly, in his plans he had not counted on coming across anyone other than the Ugnaught. 

Given the way this entire job is going, however, it’s no wonder he stumbles across a camp of strangers _in the dark_ when he has two charges. 

He discerns a dozen or more figures on his helmet’s thermal display. He wouldn’t mind so much if he were on his own. Might even camp down with them. As it is now, he arches a wide berth around the unknown crew. Wards off the woman’s questions about avoiding the campfires. A fact she, for some reason, doesn’t question.

If he had something to reward her with for that, he would. 

“Ho!Hey there!” a voice hails through the dark.

Someone has spotted them. A lookout must own thermal or night vision binocs of their own. 

_Perfect_. 

“Cover up the kid”

The woman closes the kid’s bassinet without hesitation.Further confirmation that the baby is the fulcrum on which she pivots. _Noted_. 

A few men jog out to confront them. Meant to outnumber, though no one appears a particular threat or concern. 

The Mandalorian refuses to say much besides the basics. Yes, they’re just passing through. No, they don’t need a place to bunk for the night. No, they aren’t in need of rations. No, they aren’t interested in trading. Yes, they’ll be on their way. Yes, he is sure; they’ll be going now.

Then one of the men addresses the girl.It’s not surprising. He had not missed the way the man eyed her. Some people are just plain predictable. 

So the Mandalorian has an eye out. 

“We’re fine,” the woman sounds different then usual, and he sashays closer to a conclusion that she is smart. She has good instincts, if nothing else. “Like he said; we’re just passing through.” 

“There’s nothing that way!” 

The men laugh and warn them of the blurgg waiting a few klicks East. Again, they ask the pair to stay with them. This time they extend the invite via the woman in hopes of a different answer.  All the while, some more of their friends are trickling away from the camp to join. To observe the interlopers. And they agree that, _sure_ , the two should join them.

They are much too eager. 

The woman is conscious of it, too, the Mandalorian thinks.Because she’s shifting her weight.She shuffles backward a fraction.Aborts a glances towards the bassinet between them. 

“I’m aware of the blurrg,” he heads off yet _another_ warning about the creatures.“I’m not concerned.” 

That answer earns scoffs from everyone.

“You new here?” someone chortles. 

“Must be. We’ve never seen a Mandalorian in these parts,” a Mirilan points out from over someone else’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen one in years, and that was back in Corellia...”

This Mandalorian can only hope the experience on Corellia had left an impression.That the humanoid might advise his friends to back off. 

“Then we’re in the presence of a legend!” a tall human - _Pim is his alleged name_ -faux cheers. “Come join us, legend.” 

“We’ll pass.” 

Pim doesn’t miss a beat.Turns his attention to the woman again. 

“So he does speak for you?” he tilts his head at her. “Hmmm?” 

She doesn’t answer but leans away again. 

_Yes._ They are on the same page about these men. 

“We’re going,” he nudges her to proceed ahead of him.

She gets a couple paces before Pim holds them up again. 

“Well, in that case ...if you’re not going to join-up for the night, I’m sure you’ll understand we will be helping ourselves to some of your supplies," he shrugs at the inevitable. "... ...not a whole lot to go around out here, you know?” 

“That’s not going to happen”

“No?” Pim is full of himself. Laughs, even.“You sure about that?”

His friends are just as cocky. Chuckling.Commenting on the Mandalorian's equipment.Making it known they plan to pilfer. 

“I’m sure,” the Mandalorian doesn’t hesitate.“Walk.” 

He shoves the girl again so she knows which direction to go. He's willing to take a swing that the men are all talk - they probably don’t face many _actual_ threats from travelers out here. 

But the dolts don’t let it pass. They cut the girl off.Step square into her path. 

“Keep walking”

She tries. He’ll commend her for that. She steps past the man blocking her, ignores him trying to dissuade her, and ventures to side-step him a second time when he bars her way again.

When two men pincer her off, they’re done with casual. 

“We can working something out,” Pim taps his hand onto the bassinet, clearly hoping there is something valuable inside. 

_He has no idea_. 

The Mandalorian draws his blaster before anyone else can react. 

The resulting stand-off is ...less than ideal. He may like his own odds, but the Mandalorian is not in direct control of everything he needs to protect.The kid is separate from him; the girl ambulates independently. 

He surveys the area even while keeping his gun trained on the main threat. 

“Everybody relax...” Pim assumes command, encouraging everyone to ease off their happy trigger fingers. 

He even removes his damn mitt from the bassinet to appease the Mandalorian. It's the barest of consolations at this point. 

“I won’t look at your valuables.There are other deals worth making...” 

Ah. So they’ve arrived _there_. 

“Say more,” the Mandalorian growls. 

Not that he needs it spelled out.He’s been around.He savvies what the man wants.But he lets the other man prattle so he has an extra moment to measure and plan.

Pim beats around the bush a bit. Asks hinting questions before narrowing to the point, which is:

“...we’ll take the girl off your hands a while.”

He detects the woman stiffen but doesn't look to her.  He listens to Pim’s reasons. The man thinks he’s offering the Mandalorian a _sweet deal_. They only want to _share_ , Pim says.

“I don’t share”

The woman jolts. Twists to shoot him a look. _Surprise?_ Probably. _Gratitude?_ Also likely. 

“Well, then.I guess we don’t either, friend...”

Yeah. The Mandalorian doesn’t really _do_ friendships. 

Blowing things up? _That_ he excels at.

He shoots Pim because them man deserves it.Then he fires an incendiary round at the fuel tubs near their speeders. 

The woman dives for the ground.Smart again. But the chaos is the cover they need, so he pulls her back to her feet, dodging the elbow she throws at him without offense.

“It’s me.Move ...go while they’re distracted,” he pulls and bullies her into movement. 

He manages to force the tether chip for the bassinet into her pocket because, _no_ , firefights aren’t for children.Then he lets her run for it while he hangs back to ensure the camp is still in an uproar.Picks off a few folks with his rifle to keep them scared.Keep them back. 

“They’re not pursuing,” he calls after her when he’s sure of the fact. 

The corner of his brain that is always hyper-vigilant expects her to bolt and is prepping to give chase. She slows to a stop, however, and at a jog he catches up within seconds

She is panting when she opens the bassinet so they can check on the kid but, on the whole, she appears unhurt.Similarly, the kid is in one bemused, piece. 

Perfect. 

“Hey!” the woman nearly falls on her ass rushing away from him when he tries to retrieve the electronic tether from her. Bats his hand away and backs up, wide-eyed and--

Oh.

_Oh._

She doesn’t know what she has. Hadn’t felt him slip the chip into her pocket in the ruckus of escaping. 

The night isn’t pitch black thanks to the hulking moon, so he holds his offending hand up in plain sight.Spreads his fingers for good measure.He wants her wary of him, sure, but not scared of _that_. 

“Back pocket,” he points with his other hand.

Dubious, she reaches into the pocket he had grabbed for and fishes out the device.Stares hard to recognize it in the dim light. 

“Right...here...”

The Mandalorian’s retrieves it from her with slow, deliberate movements. In contrast, she pushes it into his gloved hand in a quick, jittery way. Then he watches her cross her arms in front of herself while he replaces the chip in his vambrace. 

If she feels foolish for pushing him away, she shouldn’t.He doesn’t tell her that, of course, but she is right to be on-alert.She should be attentive at all times. That’s survival. 

“We’re heading in the right direction,” he bumps the bassinet back into motion so they can continue their trek. 

The woman falls in line as expected. Sticks closed, which is ...unexpected. 

She wants to talk.Asks about the blurrgs the filth from the camp had warned so hard against; are they safe from them? Yes. Inquires about how he’d caused the explosion at the camp. Is even interested in the tech options in his helmet when he mentions it.

The Mandalorian keeps his answers short, and the brevity inspires her to quiet.That’s just as well; she talks far too much. He can do without the chatter.

But the quiet doesn’t last long enough.

“Look.Back there...those men. Well, I’m ...grateful that you didn’t...” she pauses to fret and sigh, and he hopes she will repulse herself from the topic.“What I’m saying is,” she plows on, “I know it could’ve gone a different way.”

_Stars_ , but he would rather discuss the blurgg again. Ad nauseam. 

He opts against acknowledging the topic.

_Mistake_. 

“Well. I know I’m just a payday, but still...” 

His feet stop moving despite his resolve to disengage. He stares down at her, unsure of the precise words he wants. Because he’s a bounty hunter, and she is a payday - a damn hefty one. 

But... _that_. 

“Uh,” she squirms right where she stands, and given this conversation he does not relish it. “Not that you would be okay with what they were proposing otherwise...” 

“Are you done?” he finally chooses his words. 

Kind? No. 

Pointed? Yes. This shouldn’t even be a discussion.

“Yes...I mean,” she defaults this promise after a mere second. “I just feel the need to say I’m grateful.” 

And ....shit. _Fine._

Fair. Maybe he should've acknowledge what she was getting at sooner and they could've said fewer words about it.

“Then you’re welcome,” he nods. 

He doesn’t miss the small upward curl at the corner of her mouth, but he twists on his heel and stomps away.She’d said what she needed to.Talking is over. 

Her name is Hanna, as it turns out. Not that it matters. 

The Ugnaught’s name is Kuiil, which ... _yeah_ , maybe he should have learned that. The man had been of significant aid.

_Kuiil_ is an impeccable host again as soon as they set foot back on his farm.Ushers _Hanna_ inside and insists she help herself to warm water and clean up. Pesters her into letting him put her clothes in the cleaner he had engineered from scrap parts. 

He’s bossy; the Mandalorian already knew this. 

He also notes that Kuiil does not try offering to wash _his_ clothes.

Even so, he helps the Ugnaught check his fences outside, all while arguing about Jawas and attempting to keep an eye on the baby scurrying about.He is annoying Kuiil with his stubborn refusal to negotiate with the creatures, but he doesn’t care. Maybe the heat has taken a toll on the farmer over the years. _There is no dealing with cretins._

“What is he?” Kuiil changes topics and points at the child after scoffing at the Mandalorian for a fifth or sixth time. 

A bounty. 

_A pay day._

Mind your business, old man. 

“No idea,” he offers a bland answer instead. 

The Mandalorian watches the child shuffle after a frog with surprising speed.The kid is quick - _he’ll need to remember that._

“Do _you_ know what the child is?” The Mandalorian is aware he isn’t being addressed the next time Kuiil asks. 

He knows full well that the girl is still lingering in the house’s doorway in a too-short robe; she's been shuffling around inside for a while and shouting her two-cents about the Jawas out the window.

He doesn’t shift his gaze to her for her answer, but he does pay attention.

“No...I found him on accident. Or," she hesitates with soft confusion. "...I guess he found me” 

Interesting.

“Hmmm... ...where?” 

Kuiil could use a lesson or two about keeping in his own lane, but the Mandalorian doesn't chastise him. He listens. Only because he has ears.He could silence-out the audio on his helmet...but for what reason? 

“...not around here.” 

He looks round at her, now, not having expected this answer. 

“Fair,” Kuiil nods in odd approval over this cagy answer. 

It is fair.More than. And it's not the Mandalorian’s business at all. But if he were someone who wondered about these things, he would find it curious that she thinks she shouldn’t be answering such questions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is that working from my kitchen table is getting easier - I am becoming one with the hermit life, perhaps? Bad news is lockdown is going on longer than originally planned, sooooo I'm sure we're all in similar moods. 
> 
> I don't know what to say besides ...stay safe. Be thoughtful. Be nice to yourself. Do what it takes to stay sane. 
> 
> https://its-alltheway.tumblr.com/
> 
> Aaaaaand I don't think the new chap for Unexpected Journey is too far off. It's just fiddly.


	3. Koor (from CH. 4 - Deal or no deal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi. I'm back. I hope this chapter finds you safe and healthy. 
> 
> The views expressed in this chapter re: Jawa do not reflect the views of the author (I find them hilarious, but then haven't stolen from me, so...)

* * *

Kuiil is a kind host.He’s also willing to help _again_ by negotiating with the Jawas. It’s more than the Mandalorian could have asked of him. 

So...he shouldn’t piss the other male off.No, he needs to be thankful and he knows this full well. 

But the Ugnaught is _really_ pushing it this morning. 

Insisting on making breakfast from scratch before they go.Chatting idly with the woman and giving her a gift. Telling her stories about how long it had taken the Mandalorian to figure out how to ride a blurgg. 

Nonsense. 

A waste of time. 

As if he isn’t already struggling with the _entire_ premise of this plan. 

He feels better once they’re on the move. 

Although maybe he should not have been looking forward to the journey. It is long and tedious and gives him far too much time to stew in resentment for the very creatures they are pursuing. 

That feeling isn’t preparing him for cordial dialogue, to say the very least. 

The only thing to distract him, besides the woman - _Hanna_ \- figuring out how to wrap her head and hair in a scarf, is the kid.The tiny thing has failed to maintain the attention of his keeper and is now trying to make escape attempts from is little floating pod. The baby has already shown far too much interest in the lumbering blurrg for the Mandalorian’s liking, so he pushes the little twerp back into the bassinet every time he tries to heft a stubby foot over the edge.The last thing he needs is the kid darting off of the trailer and getting trodden underfoot. 

Displeased, the child grumbles and clicks his thick nails at the Mandalorian in a pincer motion. He can’t help but smirk behind his helmet at the spunk. Even considers, for the briefest moment, reaching back into the bassinet to let the kid have a go at attacking. 

“...yeah.Real intimidating, pal,” he huffs instead.

His voice catches the woman’s attention. 

“....you’re still not optimistic, are you?” she pipes up from further along the trailer.

He glances back, non-plussed. 

“No.This is a ridiculous plan."

Indeed.It had been pure foolishness.

All if it

First the Jawas had wanted his beskar. Kuill had known better than to even bother askinghim if he was amenable to that deal.

Then they had shown far too much interest in the kid. _Absolutely not_.Non negotiable. 

So. Now he is on his way to battle a damn mudhorn. Not ... _wise_ , perhaps. But he hadn’t been granted multiple options. These fiends have the advantage here and they know it.They’re leveraging their numbers. He’ll just have to make this plan work. He’s nothing if not resourceful. 

Intrepid, also. 

And highly competent. 

_And_ well-armed. 

It’s fine.He’ll handle it.Then he’ll have his parts and be done with this dry hell-scape.

But he must admit it’s hard to feel battle-ready when he’s folded up in a control room built for three foot tall varmints. His knees are tucked up to his chest like an ineffectual ass.

There’s no dignity in it. 

So, with a final sigh to ensure that they know he’s disgusted with them, he scoots toward the ladder and ignores the mocking giggles. He climbs down past numerous tunneling hallways until he reaches the cargo hold. It’s high-ceilinged, so he can stand tall there, and there is adequate room to walk between the piles of his parts and other miscellaneous junk. 

Actually ...he’s pretty sure he spots a weapons-grade plasma phase coil. He pauses at the foot of the ladder, eyeing it.He could use one of those... 

Maybe they’ll be pleased enough with this _egg_ to throw that into the deal, as well. 

He’ll keep it in mind. 

The Jawa down in the hold scurry away from him, which is as it should be. 

The Mandalorian stretches his legs and gets comfortable while he takes stock of the others.Kuiil is tending his beast, which is surprisingly docile for being in a new, confined space. He hesitates to say he’s impressed, but ...he is. 

The woman and the child are still by the trailer as he had asked.They don’t need to risk the tiny alien worming its way through the gaps of these haphazard piles and getting lost.Or squished.The Client had assured him he’d get paid even if the bounty died, but ...that doesn’t seem agreeable. 

When the Jawa creep back into the area they send him the occasional furtive glance.Like they are ready to dash away again at any moment.Given the incessant way they’d fought him off the sand crawler the first time around, he’s glad for this reaction.It means they still consider him dangerous.He might not be in charge, exactly, but there is power for him in their trepidation anyway. 

He watches with shrewd eyes as a particularly squat Jawa shuffles closer and closer to the trailer rather than babble from afar at the child or the woman.Nor does it scuttle backward when she gives it her direct attention. 

“Um ...what does he want?”the woman isn't panicking, but she’s leaning away and inching an arm out towards the kid, perhaps afraid the Jawa will leap forward. 

The Mandalorian isn’t convinced Jawa’s can jump much at all and, even if they could, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be so brazen right in front of his face. 

In any case, he knows just enough Jawaese to make out a few words the tiny urchin is chittering. 

“Your hair,” he provides an explanation, though perhaps not an excellent one based on her reaction. 

“Excuse me?” she blanches and starts to brush her hair out of the way under her scarf again. 

Until Kuill jumps in and explains a little more.He’s kept up with the running conversation enough to figure out this Jawa is a child.That he’s infatuated with the her long hair; maybe he hasn’t met many women. The Uggnaut seems a little enchanted by the whole thing, chuckling and telling her that the kid wants to touch her hair. 

And the Mandalorian doesn’t even want to get into the reasons for that.Maybe it’s innocent. Or maybe he’s got it in his mind to make himself a new cloak from her dark hair. 

So when the girl looks _his_ way for an opinion on the wisdom or danger of this plan, he give no reaction.He couldn’t care less. He shouldn’t even be paying attention; he should be thinking about his plans. About the logistics of facing a mudhorn. He only knows so much about the creatures, but preparation never goes amiss.

And yet here he is watching a spindly little hand reach out and brush through the woman’s hair.The giggling noise the little one makes is ... _almost nice_.It almost makes him grin.But he remembers the damage done to his ship and then he shakes his head at the whole scene. 

“ _Taa baa! Taa baa!_ ”

“...he likes it,” Kuill promises with a chuckle. 

And the woman is grinning. Even the baby coos a happy noise. 

Great.Everyone’s having a fun time. Perhaps the Mandalorian is the only one who remembers the reason they’re here: _theft and manipulation_. 

He shakes his head again and looks away. 

He has another job to consider. 

_Karking._

_Hell_. 

Panting, the Mandalorian can only stare toward the little bassinet where the child has flopped out of sight.The mudhorn lays dead in a heap beside him, and he almost doesn’t care. 

The kid...

He’d --

With one hand!

...but is he okay? 

The Mandlaorian stumbles on shaky legs toward the child to get a closer look at his prone form.Yes.Yes, his diminutive chest is rising and falling steadily. He’s ...sleeping? Passed out, maybe, but not dead. 

Good. _That’s good_. 

Because he’s got questions. 

Not that the kid has shown any ability to understand him.No.The woman will have to answer them, and she probably wouldn’t be willing to do so if the baby had croaked after...after _that_. 

He looks from the baby to the mudhorn and then back again.What he’s seeing doesn’t compute, and yet ...it had happened. The evidence is all here.Unless, of course, he’d actually been killed by the giant creature and this is some strange, parallel afterlife.That’s almost more probable than the alternative of surviving by these means...

Then again, all concept he has of the afterlife suggests it would not be like this.

It _is_ possible to get concussions even while wearing a helmet, though. _Been there, done that_...

He wants very much to sit.To rest. To think and replay these events and then break down every moment to figure out how it had happened.

But he knows if he folds himself onto the ground now he’ll have trouble getting back up. He need to keep moving, not obsess over the details.Not yet. 

What maters first is what’s before him. 

So he trudges back into the gaping cave.Through the mud.Through the dark. 

For a damn egg. 

It’s a disgusting thing, really.It’s hairy, and it carries a heavy stench from the muck it has been mired in. The fact that the Jawas will be eating it revolts him more than a little, but as long as they hold up their end of this bargain it’s none of his business. 

Eat the shell, too, for all he cares. 

_Eat twelve._

The baby doesn’t wake up during his trek back to the sand crawler, which troubles him. He even stops a few times to tickle at his cheek and prod his tiny shoulder. 

The child doesn’t react. 

But he’s still breathing. 

It’s a long walk, during which he is able to replay the events. Again. And again. Remarkable though they are, he can’t come up with any alternative theories.The child had done it.There was no one else around.No extenuating circumstances. 

He owes the baby a lift-debt. 

He’s never owed a bounty anything before. 

He isn’t entirely sure what that means...but maybe it can be easily ignored. 

The Mandalorian’s heart almost seizes when he crests the last hill to see the sand crawler is closing up. Kuill and the woman are standing alone in the sand outside of it. 

But then she is waving, Kuiil is shouting something and ...and yes! Yes, the sand crawlers ramp is slowly _slowly_ descending again. 

Relief floods through him. 

If he had nearly died and then carried this reeking egg for nothing he might’ve chased down the behemoth tank one more time just for the chance to vaporize one or two more Jawa before they escaped. 

Although...he’s not convinced that watching the little creatures gather around andeat the raw, gooey yolk with their bare hands is much better.It’s good news they are so happy, he supposes, but it’s also disgusting 

So he pays them as little attention as possible and fishes _Hanna_ way from the crowd and the little Jawa who has returned to her and is trying to feed her some of the egg.He can’t imagine she’s sorry to be pulled out of the conversation; surely she wasn’t gong to try it! In fact...she is his bounty; her health and safety are stakes in his job.He would have to insist she _not_ eat the foul treat even if she wanted to. 

But, as it is, she lets herself be lead away.

“Ow,” she does tug her arm away from his tight, guiding hold when he pulls her to a stop. 

He can’t help it.He’s wound-up.Still, he lets her escape his grip. 

Then crowds straight into her space so that she knows he still means to be in charge. 

“What is he?” he demands. 

The woman cocks her chin at him and blinks innocently. But there is something fearful in her eyes that hadn’t been there before; _he knows_ that she knows what he means. 

“What happened?” her eyes dart away in search of the baby instinctively. 

The Mandalorian snatches her chin and turns her gaze back towards his. 

“ _I’m_ asking the questions.What can he do?” 

Her eyes widen a fraction. 

Good.That means she’s following along.That it’s clear something has happened without him needing to go into detail about ...about _that_. 

“I don’t know”

And here he thought she’d planned to be smart through all of this. She was giving everything way in her face and still trying to lie around it all. 

“Lie number one”

“I’m not!” her voice pitches tighter and her face goes a little pale.“I’m not sure what he does...” 

That could be possible. 

“But you know what I’m talking about?”

“...yes,” she appears sorry to admit.

Which tracks.If she knows about what this baby can do, then maybe she has a better idea of who is after her than she has let on so far. The Mandalorian just can’t figure out _what that means_.What exactly do the Imp leftovers want? What good is this child? What _exactly_ is he capable of? And what has the Mandalorian gotten himself caught up in? 

While he’s ordering his own thoughts, her eyes drift away again.The Mandalorian follows and sees that a couple of the Jawa beginning to unload his parts have stopped next to him and are staring up at the pair while they babble to one another 

Right. _They_ _like her_.He wonders if they’ll actually turn on him over this threatening posturing. 

“Mind your own business!” 

The scurry away from his growling in a hurry, and that’s reassuring but he does release her after that.She hasn’t made attempts to flee or fight him; he probably doesn’t need to make an entire scene. 

He doesn’t like the way he feels out of control with something outside of his understanding. 

“I’m not sure why he only does it sometimes,” the woman offers, rubbing her chin where he’d been grabbing her. “Sometimes it’s like he forgets he can do it.Other times I can tell he tries but nothing happens...” 

He thinks this over. It makes sense, given that it’s only a baby - maybe he’s not great at what he can do.The Mandalorian is lucky things had worked out well for him. 

“....what happened?” she asks again. 

He glares at her for a few seconds because _she could have told him_.At the same time, he knows he has done nothing to garner a free exchange of information.That isn’t the arrangement here. 

“He stopped the mudhorn,” he supplies after some consideration. “It was charging me and...then it was just floating in mid air...”

“Stars...” she even sounds awed as she glances towards the bassinet again. 

And it’s pretty much the understatement of the galaxy. 

“My thoughts exactly.”

“... ...I’ve never seen him do anything that big.I hoped.I mean ...obviously I wished he would...” 

He can see the implication that she isn’t sure whey the baby hasn’t saved them already.Why they’ve been able to be held captive when the kid has such a weapon up his sleeve. 

Given what he’s seen, it’s a fair point. 

“No wonder it wiped him out then...” 

“Yeah,” she stares steadily after the child.

Not for the first time, he admires her dedication to the child.She hadn’t been happy earlier when he took the baby from her vicinity, either.A small (infinitesimal, even) part of him had felt compelled to honor her protective instinct, but he hadn’t trusted the Jawa near him and hadn’t wanted to give her an opportunity to finally try to make a run for it. There wasn’t many places for her to go, but he couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t talk someone into being her ally -- Kuiil probably wouldn’t chance making an enemy of a Mandalorian but the Jawa had already proven they didn’t much care. 

“Say more,” he presses her. “What else have you seen him do?”

“Little things,” she shrugs in a dismissive way. “Or...” 

He waits a beat before nodding at her to go on.He wants to know it all, now. “What?” 

“It’s just an impression...”

“Of _what_?” 

“Like ...he knows what to expect sometimes.Like he knows where I’m going or who’s coming.It’s stupid,” she trails away with a guilty sort of look.“It’s almost like ...” she stops herself again. 

“Like what?” 

“... ...I shouldn’t say anything I can’t prove,” she looks up at him from beneath eyelashes. 

Shy. 

She has some thoughts about this kid she genuinely doesn’t know how to share. 

And maybe ....maybe he doesn’t want to know after all.He knows as well as anyone that there are some things better left unasked and unsaid.This kind of ...of _sorcery_ \- it’s not natural.It’s nothing he would want the Empire to have, but it’s also not his place to say.He has all sorts of thoughts about their ways, but he had remained neutral; his loyalties were only to his people, and now isn’t the time to decide to get involved.To raise a stink on Nevarro - _in his own backyard_. 

This is a job. 

He doesn’t ask questions. 

He is duty-bound to finish the contract he’d taken, morality or political beliefs aside. 

“No,” he decides despite any niggling curiosity left.“Maybe not.” 

She looks both relieved and ...scared. It’s clear she doesn’t know what to make of him, which is for the best. 

“Who wants us?What’s going to happen to him?” 

Even if he wanted to give them, he doesn’t have all of those answers. 

So he distracts himself with some of the Jawa trudging by while dragging his belongings in a very lackadaisical way. 

“Careful with that!” he barks and marches off after them. 

He’s gotten the information he can from her, and there’s nothing he’s willing to offer in return.Not everything she’s told him makes sense, but it’s something to chew on for now. 

Not that he cares. 

The Mandalorian oversees the rest of the Jawa’s packing because he doesn’t trust a single one of them...well. Maybe the extra-small one, who had not pulled the woman's hair when it had the obvious chance.But no one else.He even helps in the loading of parts to speed up the process. His paranoia does _not_ help him acquire the phase coil he had been eyeing, but it’s not worth arguing about. 

He just wants to leave. 

And they do, Kuiil’s trusty blurgg hauling the entire trailer of parts back across the desert. The woman had been worried one beast couldn’t do it, but Kuill had chortled and told her to relax - the blurrg was more than capable. 

But the trailer is cramped so he, the girl, and the kid are all crammed together on the front ledge much closer than they had been before. 

On the way out to meet the Jawa, the kid had been restless and wanted to climb and scamper around. It is perhaps advantageous that he’s sleeping through this leg of the journey since there wouldn’t be room for such antics. 

_Hanna,_ as should be expected, doesn’t see it that way. 

She is fretting and checking on the kid every couple minutes.She even prods him now and then despite the fact that it is clear the little creature is out for the count. 

“He’s fine,” the Mandalorian finally says when she twists to study the child in the bassinet sitting between them _once again_. 

“...can you give me proof?” she challenges him. 

It is no longer surprising that she’s defensive over the boy. 

“He’ll wake up,” he does not, in fact, have actual proof. “The mud horn was ...big.I don’t imagine it was easy for him.” 

More to the point: he _needs_ to assume it wasn’t easy.The mudhorn had been about to hand him - a grown, well-armed, and time-tested man - his ass. He’d be flirting with indignation if the child stopped the beat in it’s tracks without at least breaking a sweat. 

“That’s true,” the woman take a long, deep breath. 

Excellent.That’s a good reaction.He doesn’t want to have to field her worry when he has enough going on in his own thoughts. 

Only the next thing he knows _he’s_ on the receiving end of her furrowed brow.He stares hard at her.What does she want?Surely she’s not blaming _him_.He’s told her what happened. 

“Are _you_ okay?” 

He twists to fully face her and waits for the punchline, but nothing else comes.She’s just staring right back at him with dark eyes.

"What?" he gives her a glare she can't see. 

"Well you're ...kind of a mess," she gestures at him, though he's scraped most of his helmet clean of mud and a lot of it has tried to dirt and fallen away. "Are you okay?" she then repeats. 

“...I’m fine,” he scoffs. “Don’t get too excited.” 

Because surely she doesn’t _care_. Couldn’t possibly. 

“...excited?” she wonders at him and then her face darkens and she rolls her eyes. 

But she doesn’t argue with him, just turns her attention back to the baby while she grumbles under her breath.He can’t hear what she’s saying and doesn’t ask.He doesn’t need to know when he can guess just what she thinks of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So during this pandemic, I have curled up with a blankie to re-watch The Mandalorian (you know, for science) and now I miss his old armor. I know it's not flashy beskar, but ...is this an unpopular opinion? It was weathered and earthy and I like it. But whatever. I assume we won't see it again. 
> 
> This is a cousin/companion/what-have-you to 'An Unexpected Journey', which is part of this series (below). 
> 
> I also did a thing and have a Paz fic going now because my brain is ...my brain. So if you're bored, [ It be here](/works/23940988/chapters/57574333)
> 
> And I putter around tumblr here: [alltheway](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-alltheway)


	4. Nakar'tuur (from Ch. 5: Wishing on Stars)

* * *

It’s hot and the work is tedious. 

There’s no pretending those aren’t the facts of the situation. 

Kuiil’s not complaining, and the Mandalorian appreciates that. Respects the way he’s hunkered down and gotten to work repairing the Crest when he doesn’t need to. He’d tried to tell the Uggnaut so because he _does_ have manners, but he’d just gotten a dismissive hand wave in return. Kuill said he’d enjoy the work. 

_He has spoken_. 

And he does know what he’s doing; that had become obvious after observing him for a few minutes welding deflector panels back into place. He also has a lot to say about wiring. And fabrication. And lighting placement. 

But it all checks out. 

He’s good people. Both practical and smart. Easy to talk to precisely because he doesn’t over-talk. 

Then there’s _Hanna_. 

The Mandalorian sets down his own work to march to the aft cargo ramp. She’s sitting in the shade of the landing gear with a solderer in hand because he’d forced it on her. 

Her own work has been _fine_ whenever he’d checked her process. She’s slow and he has personally witnessed her singe her fingers twice, but that’s allowable. She had asked a few smart questions when he explained what he needed done, so he knew she was paying attention and was at least taking this _somewhat_ seriously. Last time he’d checked on her, she had reminded him that she is going to be riding in the ship as well, so _no_ she wouldn’t sabotage it. 

Her sass aside, she had a point. 

And she’d promised to come to him if she had questions or thought she made a mistake. He’s just not so sure that she would actually do so. 

Hence him continuing to check-in. 

Only from a distance this time so he doesn’t have to witness her roll her eyes again. 

He watches the kid shuffle in the bassinet hovering somewhere around her shoulder. Unbeknownst to the woman, he’s stirring from his nap. Blinking his eyes open and wiggling around. 

A familiar coo gets her attention. 

Then she’s reaching up to tilt the bassinet forward just a fraction, and the kid crawls around onto his hands-and-knees to meet her. He makes another noise when his face is close to hers, and then he plucks one of her fingers from the bassinet’s ledge before nibbling on the tip of it. 

Whatever the woman says to him makes his ears straighten up a little. 

Even the Mandalorian understands what’s happening - _he’s hungry_. He often is, though he still has not condescended to eat the dehydrated fruit on offer. 

He watches the woman swivel her head and survey the area for any nearby reptiles. But _she’s_ not the hunter, so the kid waves his arms around in agitation until she picks him up and stands, wiping sand off her bottom. 

Only when she turns does she find her silent audience. 

“...can I take a work break?” 

She hasn’t asked for a break yet. Though, in a way, he supposes every time she stops to squint closely at her work or burns her finger and drops the solderer, that could be considered a micro-break... 

Then again, so could his standing here. 

He nods and watches a little longer as she sets the kid down and shuffles around after him while he scours the area. Eventually she stops and stands to just watch him at it, flicking her scarf up over her head to protect her face from the sun. 

“Is everything alright?” Kuiil enters the hold to spot the immobile Mandalorian. 

“Yes”

The Uggnaut comes to join him anyway and have his own look. 

“The boy is restless…” 

“And hungry” 

Kuill hums his understanding and glances up at him. He doesn’t respond. He hasn’t shown much interest in the child, true. Of course Kuiil notes it. 

But the Mandalorian doesn’t care. 

He should be getting back to work. _That_ he does care about. 

“Are you still turning them in for the bounty?” Kuiil asks after a few more seconds tick by. 

Yup, should have gone back to work. 

“That’s the job,” he twists his gaze down at the Uggnaut in hopes that would be enough to silence the topic. 

It’s usually a flawless tactic.

“I thought...” Kuiilk goes on anyway _because of course he does_. “Well. The boy saved your life...”

“Not on purpose”

_Surely_. 

Kuill tuts. 

The Mandalorian fully expects more; he even decides he’ll take it since the other man has been so unnecessarily helpful. But nothing comes. 

“...what?” he finds himself goading instead. 

_He should be getting back to work_. 

“You don’t know what that boy knows.”

Yes. Technically so. 

But he’s fifty years old, a foot tall, and he can’t talk. How much can be possibly understand? 

“Maybe” 

He’ll concede no more than that, so he pivots on his heel and gets himself back to task. Kuiil continues to watch the boy and his keeper for a minute more, then fetches a new welding rod so he can resume his task, too.

By the time light is starting to fade and the air cools, Kuiil is packing up his blurrg to return home. He’d camped out with them the last two nights but needs to tend to his other beasts and check-in on his farm. He promises to return the following day and even makes mentions of bringing some food along. 

It’s too much, really, but _he’s spoken_. The Mandalorian chooses to be grateful that it’s one meal he doesn’t have to take out of his ship’s rations. 

“You’re always free to join,” Kuill offers the girl. 

The Mandalorian’s eyes flick in their direction when he hears this, but he keeps his head down to continue building the fire. He disapproves but bites his tongue to see what she will do.

“Oooo…” the child scurries forward as sparks start to take life in the kindling, 

The Mandalorian snaps a hand out to catch him around the middle and hold him back. He has no self-preservation instincts, and yet Kuiil thinks he’d stopped the mudhorn with _clear, purposeful intent_? Unlikely. Right? ….hmm.

Someone needed to teach the kid better. 

Not that he cares much. He just needs to deliver the child unharmed to the client. That’s all. 

While he’s stoking the fire and holding the kid back, he hears the woman decline Kuiil’s offer. She says they’ll be alright and sees the Uggnaut off before coming to take over custody of the kid. 

“No distractions,” she chides and walks around with him as distraction. 

She bounces him a little now and then and talks quietly at him until the fire is to a proper size. Then she manages to talk the kid into choking down a couple small nuts, but as soon as her fingers go slack he is out of her grip and scratching around in the sand for beetles and sand centipedes. 

The Mandalorian watches with no small amount of distaste before trudging to the Crest to grab his own rations. 

On a shelf near the table he spots a small sack. 

It’s no surprise that it’s there, of course It is _his._ He just hasn’t taken note of it in a long time. He rarely has reasons to.

And naturally the Jawa’s hadn’t been interested in something that would fetch little to no price. 

He looks again toward his freezer. 

He’s not _that_ hungry right now... 

He glances at the sack a moment longer, then snatches it up and heads back outside before he can second guess himself. 

“ _Here…_ ” 

He upturns an empty crate and pushes it and the small bag towards Hanna where she’s sitting near the fire and watching the kid continue his insect expedition. While he settles down in the sand on the other side of the crate, she dumps out the dice he’d tossed toward her... 

And so they are soon playing a multi-dice game. 

Although when _she_ had called it a game she’d sounded mocking. The disbelief she’d voice hadn’t been unfounded - he doesn’t make a habit of presenting himself to bounties as someone who humors _frivolity_ \- but annoying all the same. He’d had to re-frame it as a “strategic contest.” 

But...it’s a game. A fairly popular one back home and an easy way to pass the time that doesn’t require a lot of materials. _Cu’bikad_ is more competitive but less simple, so dice will do. 

It’s not a complicated game. The rules are few and straightforward so long as you can pay attention and plan. After a few practice rounds, the Mandalorian is confident that she’ll keep up. 

Even the kid comes to check things out after hearing the dice rattle over and over. He does his devil best to snatch them from their make-shift table but he’s _just a bit_ too short. 

“So,” the girl peels his creeping little hand from the corner of the crate _again_ before pinning the Mandalorian with a look. “Are you the kind of guy who gets mad over losing? Just so I know what I’m getting into…” 

The question takes him aback a moment. He’s far too level-headed to let something that inconsequential get under his skin. She’s seen him steaming over the Jawa’s theft, but that had been an affront on an entirely different level and -- 

Then he reminds himself that he’s in a position of power over her even while sitting quietly by a fire.

But the answer is “no” all the same. He doesn’t need to be appeased, and he tells her so. 

“I’ll be angry if I think you’re letting me win, if that’s what you’re asking…”

“Good to know…”

She _doesn’t_ win. But it certainly seems like she’s trying. She even curses under her breath when she thinks she’s made a poor choice. 

“You’re good,” he finds himself saying because the poor choices aren’t many, and she gets more thoughtful after them. “With probability, I mean...”

“Wow. Is that a compliment?” 

Well. It sort of was, yes. But he immediately regrets it. She’s _teasing,_ he thinks. She could’ve just let it pass, not call him out. Not grin like this is _fun_. 

“More a statement of fact”

Her grin twitches, and then her shoulders do, too. Like it’s nothing. 

“...are you surprised?” 

He tilts his head at her for more information, and she sighs. 

“I mean ...did you assume I was just some stuid girl to get myself caught up in that camp back there?” 

Her tone suggests there’s something to be unpacked in that question if he cared to delve down into it. 

“...I’ve never said that.” 

“Mmhmm…” 

They play on, but he mulls over her words. _Does_ he think she’s just some stupid girl? 

Well, _yes_ ...that had certainly been his first impression. A foolish woman who’d gotten herself in trouble with dangerous men along with some weird kid. She should’ve run further. Hidden better. Avoided it altogether. 

But unfortunate circumstance after unfortunate circumstance has forced him into more time with her. He’s still not sure how she wound up here but, _no_ , she doesn’t seem stupid. Unlucky, maybe. Also inexperienced. But not unintelligent. She listens, has good instincts, and she’s personable ….

Stars. How the kriff _had_ she found herself caught up in the scraps of the Empire? 

It seems clear to him that she’s not a criminal like most of the bounties he’s dragged back to whoever they’ve escaped from or crossed. He’s met enough miscreants to know.

She truly must have shit luck. 

Or big secrets. 

….not that it’s his business. 

“Mmmrp,” noise from the kid catches his attention while the Mandalorian takes his next roll.

After he’d failed multiple times to get his hands on even one of the dice, the kid had burrowed into the girl’s lap to get cozy. The Mandalorian had assumed it was a tactic to lull the adults into complacency, but he hasn’t made a peep until now. 

“Go back to sleep…” Hanna shushes the baby and dips a hand out of sight to pet or sooth him, probably, and talk quietly at him. 

“...your roll,” he reminds her when she remains distracted for a while. 

“Yeah…” 

It’s an answer, but she’s clearly not paying attention. Still watching the kid. And it’s curious because if something were _wrong_ she would say or do something. That much the Mandalorian does know about her.

“...is he alright?” he checks anyway and despite his better judgement. 

“I think so…yeah,” she finally pulls her gaze away and back to the game. “Yeah, he’s fine…” 

He almost says more but takes her at her word. Has no reason not to once she focuses again and takes her turn. 

They play a couple more games as the darkness around them becomes more complete, but she still doesn’t beat him. 

Honestly, though? It’s a close thing. When no longer distracted, she’s sharp. Her confidence grows with time, too. She even attempts a few challenging barbs at him and, though he doesn’t heckle back, it does hone his more competitive senses. 

It takes him a while - possibly too long - to realize he’s _enjoying himself_. It’s not the camaraderie of playing against a brother or sister back home. That unspoken security and understanding isn’t there. But it’s calm and light and interesting. 

Granted he had not brought the dice out to have a _bad_ time. 

But. This is... too easy. 

Not to mention entirely inappropriate while on the job. 

So when the next round is over, the Mandalorian packs things up and goes back to the Razor Crest. Away from her and the fussing kid. 

Away where it was nice and quiet. 

He strips down slowly, savoring the act of peeling the sweaty clothing from his skin after the armor is off. The following sonic shower isn’t quite as satisfying as a hot water shower, but it gets the job done. The hot water-cycler isn’t a travel necessity so it is low on his list of things to fix for now. 

Redressing in a fresh flight suit helps him feel whole again, so he’s content when he heads for the kitchenette with his helmet in hand. The food prep machine is a little glitchy despite his cursory repair, so he goes for MREs that won’t require the heating element. Rips open a bag and mixes. 

He’s a dozen or so bites in when he hears the screaming. 

High and frantic. 

And _not_ _necessarily_ feminine….

He drops the food and slams his helmet over his head. He’d left his rifle leaning on a ballast but snatches it up as he runs for the ramp. 

Once he dashes out the hatch, he’s not entirely sure what he’s seeing. 

His HUD shows him three more heat signatures than there should be. 

The tiny one gliding away is easy to identify. 

There is another near the fire glowing large and ultra-hot. Two other forms nearby it. The fourth adult-size form is a few feet away and low to the ground. 

A scenario is writing itself in his head even as he adjusts his vision settings and raises his rifle. 

Yes, that’s three (likely) men in the camp now. For one reason or the other, one of them is on fire. Which only means he’s not an immediate threat. The Mandalorian trains his rifle on one of the others attempting to smother the flames... 

The screech of his vaporizing round overrides the screaming, and the _sizzle, puff_ of one of the strangers disintegrating is as satisfying as it always is. 

The burning man is left to flail on his own. His last partner, quick on the uptake, dives after Hanna in order to wrestle a hold onto her. It works, and by the time the Mandalorian has reloaded she is a human shield of sorts. 

_Perfect_. 

Exactly what he needs. 

He stays still and waits. 

He’s good at being patient. 

“Up. Up ...get up!” 

The man starts manhandling Hanna up to her feet, and the Mandalorian takes a slow breath and prepares. All he needs is for him to stand up too fast or for her to stumble and fall forward, exposing the man. That's it.

Neither happens. 

He can still wait. 

“Let it go, Mandalorian!” the man shouts in his direction. 

He ignores this. Doesn’t panic when the man puts a gun to her neck, either. Just stands up and keeps his rifle trained on the pair, intertwined as they are. Watches. Waits. Stalks forward down the ramp nice and slow. 

“You’ll shoot us both? Huh?” 

Considering his half-empty med kit and how far they are from proper medical attention: no. He won’t be doing that. 

He continues to study for an opening and prowls forward as the man retreats.

“You didn’t share before!” the man shouts. “You must not want to hurt her…” 

Alright, so there it is. _Share._ These are the same fucks as the ones who’d try to pilfer them before on their way to Kuiil’s. Clearly he should have blown up a few more things when he’d had the chance. 

_Kriff._

Regret stings but he doesn't allow it to distract him.

“Stay right there!” the man shouts. “No more!” 

Loathe though he is to do it, the Mandalorian digs his feet into the sand when he’s told to do so. He doesn’t think this man will kill the only thing shielding him from the Mandalorian’s gun, but he also can’t be sure the guy has _any_ _idea_ what he’s doing. He might be nervous. Might have a jumpy trigger finger. 

Luckily, the man keeps his wits when his hostage trips; he just tightens his arm around her rather than seize up and shoot her. 

“Enough!” 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!”

Hanna is panicking, but the man still seems steady enough. He also has the wherewithal to notice that the Mandalorian has hunkered into his rifle hoping for a shot in the disarray of her nearly falling. 

“Stop!”

He swipes his gun away from her and raises it towards the Mandalorian. 

Which, frankly, doesn’t worry him. 

“Put it down! We’re going!”

If he thinks that the rifle is the only weapon the Mandalorian has, then he’s a fool. Still, to temporarily appease, he does lower his rifle and drops it to the ground. He keeps his hands down and conveniently near the blaster at his hip, not that anyone notices…

“He ran off into the dark,” Hanna is suddenly rambling more loudly than necessary. “I don’t know where he -- okay!” she cuts herself off when the gun returns to her neck. 

The Mandalorian has to admire her concern for the kid in the face of everything else, but he’s still not distracted by it. He’d already spotted the kid moving about and suspects he’s fine. 

One thing at a time.

“We go!” 

“You better be good at hiding,” he warns the interloper. 

He’ll chase. 

That’s _his job._

He’s already wondering if the man has a speeder stashed over the dune. If not, surely he must know that he isn’t getting far dragging a woman all over the damn desert. 

“Enough!” the man twirls the gun back onto the Mandalorian _again_. “Maybe I do kill her!” 

_Shit._

“...your friends wouldn’t be happy,” she blurts loudly.

Which surprises even the Mandalorian. 

But _she’s thinking_. Planning. He can only approve of that even if what she's implying rolls his stomach. 

“Silence!” 

The man moves to change his aim once again. 

His arm twitches, but then he freezes in indecision. His hand ...and also his feet. Maybe he’s rethinki--

“Myah!” 

A high, familiar squeak filters through the Mandlaorian’s helmet, distracting him for a fleeting moment. His chin ticks. 

His instinct is to find the child.

But then he processes what is happening - _the way the man’s gone immobile, the way the mudhorn had stopped_ \- and snaps his attention forward. 

Hanna is a half-step ahead. Already in motion, shoving at her captor and struggling to duck from his frozen hold. As soon as she’s clear of his aim, the Mandalorian shoots. The interloper is smaller than the mudhorn, true, but who knows how long the child’s abilities will last. 

By the time he jogs up the hill, she’s extracted herself from the carcass and has scrambled to her feet. She’s breathing hard, her chest heaving, and for a second it looks to him like she’s going to throw up. 

But she doesn’t. She’s taking long, deep breaths and looking wildly around. For more assailants? 

_For the kid_. He knows that in the next moment. 

The Mandalorian doesn’t join her search. He can see the boy toddling back toward the fire, and he figures he ought to tell her so before she wanders off into the dark, too... 

Clearly she doesn’t hear him approach behind her because she gives a violent jerk when he takes hold of her shoulder. 

“It’s only me”

“Right! I know that…” 

Hmm. _Sure_. He allows her the lie if it comforts her. But he also makes a mental note that he’s now scared her multiple times just via thoughtlessness.

He gives his own start when she grasps his wrist with a shaky hand. Squeezes on. Takes another slow breath. 

He plans an immediate extraction, but he knows the steadiness returning to her breath is good. So he pauses.

“The kid’s here, right? He did that…” her voice is quiet but tone now smoother. “Can you see him?” 

“Yes. He’s closer to the fire.” 

“Good”

Indeed. 

The moment the Mandalorian truly realizes she’s shirtless is the moment he pulls his hand away from her shoulder. 

He wheels around and stomps back towards the man so he can fetch her brown top out of the sand and thrust it back towards her. She stares at it in an almost stupid way before scrambling back into it and crossing her arms in front of her in decided defense.

Which is unnecessary. He might even be offended if he weren’t relieved to have her clothed again. 

“So there’s ...not more of them out there, right?” she speaks quick in attempt to deflect from herself 

_As if_ he hadn’t checked. 

“Would I just be standing here if there were?” 

“Could you just say it?” 

There’s something desperate in her voice he would rather ignore, but someone _had_ tried to abduct her, so.... 

“It’s just us”

“Thanks,” her shoulders slump. 

They leave the body where it lays when they head back to the fire. 

“He’s there,” the Mandalorian points out the kid’s shadow when they draw nearer to the glow of the fire. 

Perhaps he’d offered her some strange calm before, but he knows the kid is what she wants. Where she’ll find _real_ solace. And, true to form, she’s cuddling the boy to her chest within seconds, and the baby revels in it. Squeezing into her shirt. Squeaking happily to have her back with him.

It's a warm sight. The Mandalorian watches for a brief moment before getting on with work. 

“Stay here…” 

He can still hear the groaning man who’d fallen into the fire, so there is no use in relaxing yet. He has to be dealt with. _Now_.

The man has rolled the flames out in the sand and is a wretched sight, but seeing how he and his friends had come out of their way to terrorize their camp ...the Mandalorian’s sympathy is thin to the point of nonexistence. So he grabs the man by the leg and drags him back to the fire, ignoring every protest.

This startles the girl to her feet and she takes a step backwards. 

Understandable. 

Yet she has a claim to the man as far as he’s concerned.

“You want to do the honors?” he offers her his blaster. 

A thing he has absolutely _never_ done for any other bounty. But this job is already unlike any other, so what’s one more oddity? 

“He’s ....already hurt,” she glances to his gun warily, but then turns her wide eyes at the injured man on the ground. 

“I doubt he’d have given you the same courtesy”

He’s known men like this. If they were ready to whisk her away in the night, they wouldn’t have given her welfare a second thought once they had her where they wanted her. 

The look on her face suggests she’s entirely aware 

“I know,” she screws her face into something stoic, but it falters fast. “I just …”

This just isn’t her world. 

“Alright”

He shoots the man in the head for her. 

It’s not that he enjoys killing. He’s just not unafraid to _off_ someone who threatens him or his. These men - these fools - had come here purposefully. They’d known what they were looking for and they knew who they were facing. 

So, no. He doesn’t feel bad. 

Hanna flinches, but she doesn’t protest. 

Which is just as well because bullets don’t go backwards. 

“Stick close to the fire…” 

It takes some time to drag the bodies over the dune to dispose of them. He doesn’t bother burying them. If nothing makes a meal of them, the shifting sands will cover them in due time. 

He walks a wide loop of the perimeter and doesn’t find any speeders. That doesn’t mean they hadn’t parked them off in the distance, but he doesn’t spot anyone or anything. Either there was no one else ...or any accomplices had been spooked off by all the ruckus.

Mildly confident all is well for the rest of the night, he trudges back over the dune to the camp and his ship. He half expects the other two to have taken refuge inside the Crest where they might feel more secure, but Hanna is still swaying the kid while she stands near the fire’s warmth. 

And he doesn't want to see her flinch away again...

“All clear,” he announces himself in a low tone before he emerges into the orange light of the flames. 

“Yeah?” she looks round quickly but doesn’t flinch away. 

“Mmhmm...head back over to the ship,” he directs her with a jut of his chin before kicking dirt onto the fire. “I’ll start a new fire.”

“Oh ...okay…” 

“So I can keep the ship at my back,” he explains more. “Just in case…” 

“Great…”

He decides not to take her trepidation personally. She’s probably still coming down off an adrenaline high and is weary for it. That’s natural; she gets to have a mood. 

He finishes killing the fire and then sets a fresh one ablaze by the ship. His tinder boxes are slow-burning and he’s not worried about keeping it lit through the night. 

They gather close to the flames again in the dark, and Hanna doesn’t sit across the fire from him like she usually does. Instead, she hunkers in at his side. 

She scoots her way there slowly like he might shove her away... 

And a part of him _wants_ to. 

No bounty gets this close to him. Rather, they generally want as much space from him as possible. That’s generally what they’re fighting for: distance if not downright escape.

So, normally, he would consider this a blatant threat. An attempt to seduce him at best. 

But he isn’t a fool. He sees this for what it is: fear. 

Still coming down. 

She doesn’t say so. 

He doesn’t either. 

He watches how she fusses with the boy’s robe to tuck him in more securely where he’s laying already asleep. Then she’s folding her legs up in front of her, tucking herself in against them, in a way. Hiding. But ...not from him. 

He knows that. 

Her proximity screams it. 

There are words of comfort he could offer if he had a mind to. That isn’t something he’s practiced with, but some part of him recognizes that _anything_ would do. He could promise his vigilance. Pledge he won’t hurt her, maybe. Assure her that she’s safe. Explain how his HUD will pick up any movement beyond the fire. 

He does feel an odd pull to these platitudes. To ease the tight way her shoulders are pinched together. 

But this is a job. He knows this. He knows that she knows it, too.

So any attempt to promise he’s looking out for her - that he cares - feels hollow. 

And yet the silence is growing taut.

“You can sleep, too,” he finally settles on facts. “I’ll be staying awake…” 

“Yeah,” her sigh is soft and, dare he say, relieved. “I should…” 

She does.

Eventually.

It gives him time to disappear inside and chug down some water, then grab a ration bar. It wasn’t the meal he’d planned, with time out of the helmet and an opportunity to be properly on his own, but it will suffice. 

He simply can’t let himself stay inside there too long. He won’t be caught unawares twice. 

Not by amateurs.

He returns to his place, his back facing the ship and legs stretched to cross in front of him. There, he can keep an eye on the situation while breaking off chunks of his protein bar to shovel up under his helmet. 

And the night remains quiet. 

Entirely still save for the flickering fire. 

Until the girl’s breathing speeds up. Moments after that, she twitches herself awake and shoves herself into a seated position. 

He watches her take stock of the area. 

Then the kid. 

Then _him_. 

“I’m still awake,” he offers for whatever the fact is worth. 

Something, it seems. 

She doesn’t seem surprised. Doesn’t argue. 

“Yeah. I figured,” she nods and scratches at her hair. “...you said you would be.”

That’s ...straightforward. And she doesn’t walk it back. Just leaves the words there like they are fact.

“Then go back to sleep”

She agrees with words but remains sitting tall and alert for some time. 

He’s grown up with close quarters and been packed tightly with others from the enclave long enough to know a bad dream when he sees one. Or hears one, for that matter. And she can’t hide it like his kin can. It’s all over her face: she’s troubled. 

But it isn’t his business. 

_She’s_ not his business ….except for, well, literal business purposes. 

He stops watching her and gazes into the fire instead. 

Scans the area at regular intervals. 

Absolutely isn’t paying attention to Hanna as she lays down again. Rustling with her makeshift pillow ( _scarves_. It’s just her scarves rolled up and, personally, he thinks she’d be just as well with no pillow at all). Tosses and turns. 

Not his business. 

No matter that it sort of ... _feels_ like his business. 

Like this is....a moment. Not just a transaction. 

Which is ridiculous. He’s getting paid. _That_ makes it a job. 

It’s just that simple. 

For forcing his attention elsewhere, he is taken by surprise when she _touches him_. 

She worms her fingers under his leg without permission or preamble. He expects her to grab at him in some fashion so starts to pull away ...only she just lies there. Doesn’t move further. 

So he freezes, too. 

Stares.

“What are you doing?” 

A valid fucking question. 

“Sleeping” - _uh…? -_ “I’m _trying_ to sleep.”

Huh. 

Well. 

Fine? 

It’s not hurting him. 

But he doesn’t _get_ it. Not really. 

Or perhaps that isn’t true. There’s an evolutionary rationale to sidling up to someone stronger than you. That is nothing new. He’s been hired as a bodyguard, hasn’t he? This is what people do to survive. 

Although ...she’s not asking anything of him is she? She’s just. _There._ And he’s there. 

He remembers the way she’d held onto his arm earlier, anchoring herself to him in order to collect herself. The way she’d found some sort of solace in his presence. 

He wants to believe it’s stupid of her, and it bothers him that he can’t. 

Her designation as a bounty isn’t the only reason he’d intervened. Nor was the fact that those men had invaded his camp the only reason he was willing dole out some retribution. He wouldn’t have let them take her regardless of this job.

_Couldn’t_ have. 

While he doesn’t generally insert himself into the affairs of others, there’s some things that just can’t stand. Perhaps, on some level, Hanna _knows_ that. Can discern that of him.

And he finds he doesn’t hate that idea. 

He has never endeavored to _be known_ by people he encounters during his work, but to be seen and understood...it isn’t so awful. Maybe.

However, it does highlight her sudden and horrible _humanity_. 

Every warm and intuitive thing she’s done stands in stark clarity in his mind’s eye for a few tense seconds. 

Thanking him for sharing his water. Warning him of the Thrandoshan bearing down on him. _Calling him an idiot_. Smiling and chatting animatedly with Kuill. Laughing with the baby and attending to his needs or whims. Scrunching up her face to concentrate on the dice came and teasing him between turns. Even seeking to understand and endear herself to the Jawas - that isn’t something he’d recommend, personally, but it was terrifically human. 

Following his lead when things have gotten risky. 

Checking on his well-being.

Grabbing onto _him_ after an attempted abduction. 

She’s not acting at all like a criminal. Or like someone who knows what they owe to someone or what is going to be taken from them. Which …

Is new. 

He almost shoves her awake and demands to know what she’s gotten into and what it’s all about. He’s so tempted that his hand twitches. 

Uh-uh. No. 

Not. His. Business.

Instead, he eyes the kid who is sleeping like he has no idea what’s inside of him. Like he has no clue what’s on the horizon. That Imperial stooges are looking for him. 

For once it bothers the Mandalroian that he doesn’t know what’s on the other side of this, either. 

He admits that to himself. 

Then spends the rest of the dark hours figuring out how to best dismiss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Hmm. Hah.   
> This one made me a little nervous. 
> 
> But there it be. Happy Tuesday!
> 
> Stay safe out there, y'all. Take care of yourself. Be nice to each other. Keep pushing. 
> 
> And come distract yourself for a few minutes in the [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-alltheway) world if that's your thing. 
> 
> <3


End file.
